Cathy Xavier couldn't bear it, got out of her long dress, and her fair, fragrant feminine body nestled into his arms.
Even if she was not Anna Jadwin, in what way was she worse?
She had everything Anna Jadwin had - nothing less?
Wayne Bailey lay in bed, his handsome face flushed with drunkenness, and looked at her as she approached him: "Wayne Bailey, I'm Anna Jadwin. Don't you recognize me?"
He looked at her with an indifferent, faint blue gaze.
It was so light and cold that it seemed to be wrapped in the frost of a thousand mountains. For three years, that was how he had looked at her, with a gentle estrangement.
But Cathy had seen how he looked at Anna Jadwin - hot and burning, angry, fierce, happy, and sad.
It wasn't like when he looked at her, Cathy, with a face devoid of passion, as if his soul was completely drained.
Cathy pressed her hot body against his, her little hands stroked his chest, trying to tease him.